


it comes with a price

by lasciel



Series: Rabbit Heart [5]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Altered Mental States, Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feminization, Gun Kink, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Object Penetration, Orgasm Denial, Riding, Rough Sex, Small Penis, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciel/pseuds/lasciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack chuckles, fingers slipping into the small spaces between Rhys' toes, and Rhys swallows a giggle, a full body shudder travelling through him.</p><p>“If you mess up my work, I'm going to cut off your stupid sausage fingers, asshole.” Nisha stops painting Rhys' thumb, frowns at Jack.</p><p>“No reason to get the claws out,” Jack says, loosely holding onto Rhys' feet now, looking at them intently. “Hey, did you bring some yellow nail polish as well? I think that would look better on him.”</p><p>Nisha snorts. “As if you know anything about colours.” She picks up Rhys' hand, blowing gently on his fingernails. “He's going to wear purple now, and he'll be the prettiest girl on the playground.”</p><p>Rhys smiles and closes his eyes, letting their bickering wash over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it comes with a price

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look, we've got a guest star in this one! Also, Important Plot happens, but I know not all of you are into het, so I've put the plot before and after the hetero-flavoured sex.
> 
> This one got longer than the others, and it was very difficult to write, so... I hope you'll enjoy this & please let me know if you do.
> 
> thanks to [ssealdog](http://ssealdog.tumblr.com/) for the 2nd pair of eyes, the kind words, and especially the hand-holding. ilu <3

The heat is over, there's a fledgling bond solidifying between them more and more every day and Rhys is still not pregnant.

To say that Rhys is worried would be a severe understatement.

He lingers at the side of Jack's desk, his right hand smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt, his other hand splayed out over his stomach while he looks at it thoughtfully. Jack's already working again, but at this point the plug in Rhys' ass isn't even something he notices anymore.  
“What if there's actually something wrong with me?” Rhys asks quietly, aiming for casual.

The typing stops, which means he failed spectacularly. 

Jack's gaze settles on him like a weight. “Come here.” 

Hesitantly, Rhys look at his alpha. Jack has turned the chair to face him, his legs spread, patting his upper legs with both hands.

Rhys shuffles forward, but he isn't quite brave enough to raise his eyes up further than to Jack's collar, still a bit rumpled from sex. He sits down in Jack's lap, and the strong arms of his alpha come around him immediately, pressing him closer. One of them tilts his chin up until Rhys is either forced to close his eyes or to look at Jack's face.

Rhys isn't a complete coward, apparently.

His alpha is considering him intently, a slight frown marring his forehead. When Rhys swallows heavily, a notable hitch in his next inhale, Jack's mouth stretches into a smile, more soothing for Rhys' nerves than any words could ever be. “Don't worry your pretty head about that,” Jack tells him unceremoniously, “I've got the best doctors money can buy going over your samples. If there really is something wrong here—“ He presses his other palm onto Rhys' stomach. “They would have already found it.”

For one second, the relief rushing through Rhys is too much for him to comprehend. He surges forward, both of his hands holding Jack's throat. He presses a rough kiss against his alpha's lips, not looking away for even a breath. When they part, Rhys grins crookedly, tries to save the moment from becoming too sappy. “What about the best doctors money _can't_ buy?”

Jack chuckles, and the corners of his mouth curl up even further. “Don't forget who you're talking to here. There's always a way.” 

Rhys rolls his eyes, and on his hips, Jack's fingers twitch. He hides his face in the crook of Jack's neck, his fingers clutched in the alpha's vest.

“I'm going to knock you up, babe, even if it's the last thing I do,” Jack promises him quietly, his mouth hot against Rhys' temple while his hands stroke over Rhys' back.

Rhys can feel himself calm down, and even the already looming drop seems to become more distant. He strokes over Jack's shirt lazily, fixes the collar of it. “Can you leave me your assets before you kick the bucket? I don't want to be a poor single mum.”

A huffed snort, and then Jack bites his earlobe, none too gently, making Rhys squirm in his lap. “You're not getting a single credit, Rhysie,” he growls, his fingernails dragging over Rhys' back. “I'm giving it all to the kid, and you can be grateful if the custodians give you a roof over your head, you greedy beast.”

Rhys laughs softly, and Jack joins him, his entire body shaking with it. He mouthes at the skin of his alpha's neck, lets himself enjoy this rare and quiet moment, enjoys not having to think for a while.

When Jack finally sends him away, it's with a lopsided grin and a gentle slap on Rhys' ass. “Still got some money to earn for the kid.”

He nods, manages a small but honest smile.

That evening, Rhys leaves the plug in for as long as he can stand it, and the drop is nothing more than an itchy feeling, easy enough to ignore.

* * *

Being bonded is... weird. Seeing as Rhys was never bonded before, and was in fact — until recently — against the very idea of being so dependant on somebody else, he doesn't quite now if that's just how it's supposed to be or because he's bonded to Handsome Jack.

Rhys huddles deeper into his blanket, eyes closed but still not really all that tired yet, even though it's already pretty late.

The bond's barely two weeks old, but on most days he's feeling restless, doesn't know what he wants to do first. It's an almost manic type of energy that frequently claims him, and he's pretty sure that's all Jack's fault.

He sighs loudly, willing himself to fall asleep already.

Jack still doesn't give them the time to come down together after sex, but then again, Rhys didn't really expect that would change. _Needy omega bullshit_ , Rhys think wryly, turning onto his right side.

But... his alpha's touch tends to linger now, and he seems almost reluctant to send Rhys away, even if he does it anyway.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on Rhys' part. 

He smiles to himself.

Or maybe that's the part of the bond Rhys is sending Jack's way.

He tried to read up on bonding a while ago, once the idea of sharing that part with Handsome Jack ended up being more fascinating that scary. But Rhys couldn't make hands or tails of the academic papers. Most of them read like guesses, dressed up in fancy words, and even though Rhys knows his way around talking without actually saying anything, it ended up being a frustrating, fruitless experience.

With so much restless energy, it's no wonder Jack seems to practically live in his office. Rhys presses his palm against the mark on his neck. The black tattoo was supposed to be a message to himself as much as to anyone else. 'I'm an omega, but I don't need a bond.'

Now there's a bond scar smack in the middle of the black circles, and Rhys is pretty sure Jack did that on purpose. On some days, Rhys doesn't think it's all that noticeable. On others, he's convinced nobody looks at anything else but the scar, and he has trouble with both options.

Like Rhys said. Being bonded is _weird_.

He presses down on the fine, white scar until it tingles, spreading it though his entire body and making him shiver pleasantly.

For his part, Jack seems to enjoy bending his neck when he's talking to somebody, just so that the light catches on the equally subtle scar Rhys left on him.

Rhys was there a few times when it happened, and he's pretty sure he knows why his alpha enjoys doing that.

There's always a small moment when the other person’s eyes are inevitably drawn to the line of Jack's bared throat, immediately followed by a double-take. Either the person shakes their head in disbelief, obviously convinced that Handsome Jack couldn't possibly be bonded, and that it's just a weirdly placed scar with no meaning.

Or there's a calculating look that settles over their features.

The latter always makes Rhys feel relieved that their relationship is still nothing more than a rumour among many others.

Jack's very selective in whom he lets them see together, and either Jack actually trusts these people (unlikely) or he pays them enough money to not make them want to jeopardise their position.

Rhys laughs softly, his eyes falling shut. Or maybe they're just scared shitless of Jack's wrath, which is probably the real reason.

Sleep is slowly seeping into his bones, and through the bond, he can feel his alpha's presence somewhere on Helios, thrumming with energy, but still calming to Rhys.

Knowing that Jack's there, not even a call away any longer, is something Rhys never wants to go without anymore.

* * *

On the next day, Rhys is in the middle of sorting through reports (self-adulation, self-adulation, might be something useful, self-adulation) when his ECHO eye suddenly activates on its own, making Rhys nearly fall from his chair. It displays a message that Rhys is pretty sure will stay there, smack in the middle of his vision, until he reads it.

He doesn't know when Jack hacked into his system, and he isn't sure he even wants to know. _Probably when he plugged in the executive override port_ , Rhys thinks sullenly, suppressing a shudder at the memory.

With a weary sigh, Rhys considers the message.

_Be at my place at 9 am. You're going to meet a special friend of mine, dress accordingly._

'A special friend'. Rhys raises both eyebrows, his curiosity awakened. To be honest, he was beginning to doubt Jack even had any friends. Everyone Rhys met was either a bootlicker or another filthily rich person or sometimes a disgusting combination of both.

The excited, nervous curiosity makes the day pass in an agonisingly slow blur.

Back at home, he lays out the outfit Jack gifted him shortly after the heat, with a self-satisfied grin and a murmured, “For a very entertaining heat and many more to come.” 

Yvette watches him from the bed, quiet since he told her about this 'date'.

Rhys stares at the outfit, touches one sleeve of it. While he looks really great in all black, he kind of misses the splotches of colour. He slips into a fresh pair of underwear and socks, choosing his favourite blue and yellow striped set with a hum while he ignores Yvette's snort. 

“It's not like anybody's going to see them or Jack would have mentioned something about 'quality time together',” he tells her defensively.

She waves his words away. “If you say so.”

Attaching the silver arm Jack also gifted him goes smoother than the process usually is with his old model, but Rhys sure as hell isn't going to tell Jack that. Ever. His alpha's ego is big enough as it is.

In the bathroom, he slicks his hair back, apart from two carefully chosen strands, grooms his eyebrows into form. Rhys draws his left hand slowly over his legs, enjoying the feeling of smooth skin under his palm. An expensive procedure and Vaughn frequently likes to make fun of him for undergoing it, but definitely worth every single credit.

Rhys winks at himself in the mirror, accompanying it with practised and suave finger guns. “Hello, handsome.” He looks _awesome_ , and even the soft laughter drifting over to him from Yvette doesn't dampen his good mood.

Back in his bedroom, he shrugs into the black shirt, followed by the vest and jacket. The orange, practically glowing, buttons of the vest and jacket still feel a bit too much, but at least it's a hint of colour. Rhys looks down at himself for a moment then heads back into the bathroom, checking his reflection one last time before he stops in front of Yvette, twirling for her.

“You look great,” she tells him with a small smile.

Rhys snorts, shakes his head. “I look like a supervillain.” 

Yvette's smile turns into a grin. “But a _very attractive_ supervillain.” 

Alright, he can give her that. Rhys winks at her. “Oh, absolutely.”

She stands up, looks him up and down from close by. “Remember,” she says quietly, tracing over his shoulder. “If anything happens, you call Vaughn or me and—”

He presses his hand on top of hers, smiles. “And I give you my codeword, which is 'pomegranate', because they basically taste like Vasquez' smells, and I would rather space myself than have anything to do with either of them." Honestly, it makes his skin crawl just thinking about it. "It's alright, Yvette. I'm—” Rhys tilts his head, unsure of what to tell her, how not to sound like a completely besotted idiot omega. He grins. “If he hasn't killed me yet, it's unlikely that he'll do it now when he's got a special friend over.”

Yvette pokes his cheek, making an exasperated sound. “You're terrible, Rhys.” But the tense lines of her shoulders relax, and then she slaps his thigh. “Alright, go on, have fun. Impress your alpha and this friend of his.”

Rhys salutes her dutifully, struts out of his apartment and heads to Jack's tower.

* * *

To be fair, Jack doesn't really live in a tower, but he's designated an entire apartment block to himself, enough space to easily house another hundred people. It's massive overkill in an entirely typical Handsome Jack fashion, and so Rhys has no problem with calling it 'a tower' and being done with it.

As always, the closer he comes to Jack's place, the fewer people are around. There are Loader Bots here and there, the usual Cleaning Bots and security. Guards everywhere, and even though Rhys hasn't been here often yet, one of the guards in front of the elevator waves him through with a nod before he can even say anything.

With how fast the elevators on Helios are, the journey up top is actually quite short, but still long enough to leave Rhys enough time to think, which is never a good thing. He draws a hand over his front, smoothing out imagined wrinkles. Hopefully, he read Jack's message correctly and didn't accidentally overdress? That would be embarrassing, and Jack would never let him live it down.

The doors slide open, and Rhys lets out a breath, willing himself to relax again. 

Walking into Jack's opulent rooms still makes him feel... inadequate, even dressed up as he is. Everything is smooth and shiny, new and mostly unused. He walks past a shelf, trailing the fingers of his left hand over the silver and clean surface. They really are from different worlds, he and Jack. Not enough that Jack is older by a good handful of years, and has the experience to show for it — The alpha wields wealth with a carelessness that professes routine.

Rhys shakes his head at himself, wanting to get rid of the useless musings. He's bonded to Jack, so obviously the alpha sees _something_ worthy in him. Now all Rhys can do is try not to make Jack regret that decision.

The hallway is dark, but muffled voices lead him to the enormous bedroom. He stops at the doorway, accessing the situation.

The light is dimmed, and behind the king-sized bed, the view is showing only dark space today. Rhys turns his attention quickly further to the left.

Jack's seated on his couch, legs crossed, looking at ease without his jacket. On the table in front of him are two dark bottles, half empty by the looks of it, and next to him...

Next to him is a woman. She's sitting with her legs spread, clad in black trousers, her brown hair falling to her shoulders. There’s a dark coat on the couch next to her, and a... a cowboy hat?

Rhys is confused but also intrigued, and he takes a step into the bedroom without thinking about it.

Two pairs of eyes fixate on him instantly, and Rhys swallows thickly. He thought Jack’s gaze was as intense as it could get, but mystery lady's is just as piercing, if not more so.

“There you are, Rhysie!” Jack claps his hands together, throwing a look at his comm. “Early as always.” His vest is unbuttoned, loose at his front, and he looks... completely relaxed in a way he rarely lets himself be seen.

Rhys eyes the already half empty bottles, swallows a cheeky, 'seems like I'm too late'. He doesn't know yet what to do with the mystery lady, and so he only nods in answer, stepping closer to the two of them, his eyes on the papers scattered over the desk's surface.

 _Only Jack would have somebody like her sitting next to him and still insist on working_ , Rhys thinks, more fondly than exasperated.

“So,” mystery lady says. She stands up, not elegant but fluid in a way that somehow manages to promise violence, practically stalking over to Rhys. “That's the omega who's got you wrapped around his little finger.”

Jack makes a sound, somewhere between a snort and a laugh.

Mystery lady waves a dismissive hand at him. “Don't even try. The shit you let him get away with honestly makes me wonder...” She trails off when she comes to a stop in front of Rhys, her eyes dark and keen. “Makes me wonder if I've been talking to Jack or John,” she says quietly, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Jack.

Jack falls silent, and Rhys wants to look at his alpha, to see his expression, because who the hell is John? But... She's imposing even though he's almost a head taller than her.

Rhys bends his neck to the side in submission, because combined with her scent, thick and not unlike Jack's in all the right ways, there's little else he can do.

“Well trained,” she coos, her calloused fingers trailing over Rhys' tattoo, the bond scar.

After a heavy pause, Jack finally replies. “Thank you.” He sounds pleased, apparently satisfied with simply observing them from the couch.

Mystery lady tilts Rhys' head to the left with a firm hand, her other one resting on the middle of his chest. “Oh, please.” She snorts, shakes her head, one corner of her mouth curled upwards. “We both know that you couldn't teach a Skag how to take a shit.”

Rhys tries not to smile when Jack sputters in indignation, because Jack is his alpha and it wouldn't do to undermine him in front of somebody Rhys doesn't know. Still, he definitely likes her.

“Didn't know that was your type now,” she says thoughtfully, amusement clear in her voice, and she tilts Rhys back to the other side.

From the couch, Jack hums. “What do you mean? Lanky, harmless, omega...?”

“Nah. He's...” She frowns, her lips pursed. “Cute.”

Rhys scowls. So much about looking like a supervillain.

Mystery lady cackles suddenly, a loud and rough sound. “He's _pouting_. I think I've seen scarier kittens than him.”

Jack joins her laughter, slapping his knee, and Rhys' scowl deepens. He takes that back, he doesn't like her _at all_.

Still chuckling quietly, Jack stands up and moves closer to them, stopping next to mystery lady. “I think introductions are in order. Nisha, that's Rhysie. Rhysie, that's Nisha — bandit killer extraordinary and—“

“His girlfriend,” Nisha injects smoothly, eyes intent on Rhys' face.

Rhys throws a quick glance Jack's way, catches the eyebrow raised in surprise before Jack's expression evens out again. He exhales slowly, takes his time, studying her closely. They're standing so close together, even in the dim lighting he can see the fine lines at her eyes and mouth, revealing her to be closer to Jack's age than to Rhys'.

He taps his metal fingers against his leg. Honestly, Rhys isn't surprised.

She's an alpha, imposing, wearing an aura of 'predator' like others wear perfume. She's probably just as dangerous as Jack, and Rhys wouldn't be surprised if there were drops of blood on her clothes somewhere.

Nisha is exactly how he always imagined Handsome Jack's girlfriend would be like. And to be honest, Rhys wouldn't mind having someone like her as his girlfriend, either, because quite frankly, she's _hot_. 

The silence stretches on, and Rhys forces his arms to hang loosely at his sides.

She's everything that he isn't, and if Rhys hadn't just caught his alpha's look of surprise, he would probably feel really threatened and unsure right now. And probably say something he'd regret later. But as it is, he can smile at her, but not before righting his head again, so that he's looking down at her. “Hi, I'm Rhys,” he tell her sweetly, “just the guy Jack's bonded to.”

Rhys holds the smile, and he valiantly doesn't wince. Okay, so much about not saying something he'll regret later. Apparently her words unnerved him enough to have him want to stake a claim on his alpha.

Nisha blinks at him. Then her violet-painted lips stretch into a wide grin, and she slaps Rhys' shoulder, enough force behind it to make him sure that he'll have bruises later. “I like him!”

Rhys chances a look at his silent alpha.

One corner of Jack's mouth is raised, and he looks... maybe a bit relieved? Definitely smug, though, and Rhys relaxes slightly.

The fingers on his shoulder trail down his left arm. “I wanna see what all the fuss is about,” Nisha says into the room at large, and then she nods at Jack. “Make yourself useful, I need more light for a proper inspection.”

Jack shrugs with one shoulder, still looking far too pleased with himself for Rhys' liking.

The alpha doesn't move at all, and Rhys takes that as his cue, activating his ECHO eye and interacting with Jack's system with ease. It practically unrolls the red carpet for him, and Rhys can't suppress a small smile.

The lights turn a bit brighter, but not by too much, because Rhys is pretty sure there was a reason for the dimness, and the atmosphere it gave the room.

“Off with the jacket,” Nisha orders in a flat tone, and he barely contains a flinch, because suddenly she looks _pissed_.

He doesn't bother checking with his alpha for permission before his fingers are flying to the buttons at his front to obey her. Rhys lets the jacket and vest fall from his hands, staring at the violet skull on Nisha's top, not daring to raise his gaze.

Nisha takes his metal arm, now only the beginning of it covered by his black shirt. She turns it this and that way, one finger tracing over its smooth surface with more care than he would have ascribed to her.

He's kind of expecting what follows next, and so he doesn't startle too badly when calloused fingers take his chin into a firm hold, forcing him to look directly at her.

Rhys shivers when she pushes the skin under his ECHO eye downwards, an action eerily similar to Rhys' first meeting with Handsome Jack.

Her eyes are very, very dark when she lets up from him, but remains holding onto his face. “You told me there wouldn't be another Wilhelm,” Nisha says quietly, something hard and ugly hiding in the corners of her mouth.

 _I don't even know who that is!_ Rhys thinks panicky, sweat gathering at his palm. It takes a long moment for him to realise that she isn't talking to him at all.

And then Jack says, “Oh, come on! You can't still be mad about _that_.”

To Rhys' amazement, the air between them cools even further.

“He could have helped me a lot down on Pandora.” The blank expression on Nisha's face doesn’t change.

“He was an idiot who had outlived his usefulness,” Jack responds drily, without even a hint of remorse. “Had to happen like it did, you know that.”

“Oh, I know,” Nisha replies calmly, and if she wasn't still holding his chin between her fingers, Rhys is pretty sure he would already be running for the door. “You and your _plans_.” Her lips stretch into a cruel facsimile of a smile, chilling Rhys to the bone. “How did that work out for you, hm, Jack?”

Jack... stills. 

There's no other word to explain the way his body goes rigid, the way he doesn't even seem to breathe for a moment.

Nisha caresses Rhys' cheek, looking at Jack out of the corners of her eyes while she leans in closer to Rhys, pressing herself against his side in a very distracting way. “You've been fucking him for what, months now? Does your precious boy toy know? Any of it?” She huffs, her smile turning even wider. “And considering your domestic plans concerning him... does he even know about _her_?” she asks almost gleefully, nodding towards Jack.

Life returns to Jack, and the lines at the corners of his eyes tighten. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and then his lips stretch into a smile just as unsettling as Nisha's, and Rhys really wishes he was anywhere right now but here. “No, he doesn't know. But if you wanna tell him all about that, baby, don't mind if I spice story-time up with a few juice bits about your dear _mother_.”

The fine hairs on the back of Rhys' neck rise up, the air around them cackling with hostility and something that might be bloodlust. Honestly, even Pandora is beginning to sound like a recreational resort compared to this, and Rhys glances at the door to freedom longingly for a second.

A muscle at the side of Nisha's mouth twitches, and her eyes are mere slits when she answers, voice quiet, “We both know that you wouldn't dare, _honey_. Not after I had to fake my death and go into hiding like a coward because of your stupid plans.”

“Oh, please.” Jack clucks his tongue, every word dropping with acid. “I did the same, and at least the inbred bandits didn't tear your face off of you to keep it as a _bloody trophy_.”

The alphas stare at each other, both tense, bodies coiled with the promise of violence.

“I could... leave?” Rhys sounds feeble even to his own ears, but the only thing he cares about right now is getting out of this boiling situation in one piece. He can try to make heads and tails out of what he's just heard later, much later, once he's back safely in his locked apartment.

Nisha tilts her head slightly, looking at Rhys as if she just remembered that she's still holding him fast.

Jack frowns, shaking his head. He waves a hand at Nisha, his expression evening out. “Truce?”

She doesn't answer, but there seems to be an entire silent conversation going on over Rhys proverbial head right now, because she relaxes only seconds later, her hand turning into a warm weight on Rhys' neck. “There's definitely better things we can do that don't end with me kicking your ass. Again.”

Jack snorts. “Yeah, whatever.” He moves towards them once more, until he's close enough so that his shoes are touching Rhys'. “And by the way.” He grins, taking Rhys' metal arm and tapping it with the fingers of his other hand. “Rhysie already came with those nice extras.”

Rhys bristles, earlier fright almost completely forgotten. Not enough that the way the alphas act around each other speaks of years of familiarity between them, and not enough that Rhys has no idea who John or Wilhelm are, and that there's apparently another woman in Jack's life. Now his alpha is speaking about him as if Rhys is... as if he's a product the alpha ordered.

It's almost funny how that last thing annoys him the least. Somewhere in the back of his head Rhys was aware for a while already that while his knowledge about Handsome Jack is extensive, he can pretty much count the things he knows about _Jack_ on two hands. And most of the things he does know are not details you can recount in polite company. 

Rhys frees his arm from Jack's grasp, pressing it against his chest protectively. He isn't angry enough to try to step away from Nisha, but he stares at his alpha, willing his voice to be firm. “ _He_ can speak for himself.” And fine, he ends up sounding far throatier than he wants to, but who can blame him? His head might still be reeling from the sudden mood change, but Rhys is still very much surrounded by the heady scents of two alphas, and Nisha's body is so warm against his side, Jack a familiar and tantalising presence in front of him.

Nisha laughs, a rough, delighted sound. “Mouthy, isn't he?”

Her words and breath ghost over Rhys' cheek, making him shiver even while he tries to hold his alpha's gaze.

Jack raises an eyebrow, chuckles. “You've no idea.” He takes Rhys' right arm again with no resistance, folding their fingers together and pressing a kiss to the silver gleaming knuckles.

Rhys knows he's blushing, and the dark, amused gleam in Jack's eyes doesn't help at all. He turns his head to Nisha, escaping his alpha's intensity. “My mouth is also good for other things,” he tells her earnestly, because apparently his filters are out of order right now.

Nisha purrs, smiling slowly. She presses her breasts more firmly against this metal arm until Rhys is sure he can actually feel them. “And here you were thinking you'd have to talk him into having a threesome.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't think he would be _this_ easy.” There's a growl in Jack's voice, but he doesn't seem mad. His eyes are half shut when he takes one of the knuckles into his mouth, sucks on it, and Rhys almost doesn't notice when Nisha's arms circle around his waist, her fingers working deftly on his zipper.

 _It must be great to be able to switch so effortlessly from violence to sex_ , Rhys muses mulishly, very aware of the warning bells still ringing in the back of his head.

He has no idea what it was that made Nisha so angry or what she said that got under Jack's skin, and if there's a chance of it happening again. His trousers slide down his legs and he dutifully steps out of them, but he can't really stop thinking about John and Wilhelm and the other mystery woman in his alpha's life. Jack helps him out of his shirt, leaving his chest bare, and Rhys can't quite bring himself to look at his alpha's face while he does it, still too unsettled. He slips out of his shoes, kicks them to the side.

A mouth latches onto the top of his neck, and then Nisha murmurs, “Is he pouting again?”

Both of Jack's hands frame his face, tilting it up until Rhys is looking at him reluctantly.

His alpha grins. “Like a champ.” Before Rhys can utter a protest, Jack presses their lips together, pushing his tongue into Rhys' mouth with self-satisfied surety.

Nisha chuckles, leans her head on Rhys' shoulder. Her hands slowly trail down over Rhys' thighs, her palms rough on the inside of his upper legs. She whistles quietly. “Damn, you weren't kidding about the legs.” Her lips are very warm on the seam where his flesh meets metal, and she smirks when that makes him shudder hard enough to end the kiss. “Who'd you kill for them, beanpole?” she asks, her eyes half shut with mischievous amusement.

 _Beanpole_? Well, better than some of Jack's nicknames, and Rhys has been working for Hyperion long enough to know the correct answer to that question. He smirks right back at her, enjoying how Jack's large hands are engulfing his face, how Jack's breath puffs warm against his tingling lips. “Nobody anyone will bother searching for.”

Nisha's lips curl up even further. Without hesitating, she sinks her teeth into the scarred skin of his right shoulder, and Rhys gasps, a jolt rushing through him.

The sound turns into an embarrassingly loud moan when her fingernails drag back up his thighs, thumbs pushing underneath his shorts and into the soft skin of his ass.

Jack hums, leaning forward and sucking on Rhys' Adam's apple. One of his hands slips into the front of Rhys' shorts, palm fitting itself over his filling balls until Rhys is panting open-mouthed, trembling between the two alphas and their knowledgeable hands.

“He's stopped thinking if you're ready to go on.” Jack leans back again, and Rhys blinks at him.

Why would he be thinking right now? _Oh._ He purses his lips, looks accusingly at his alpha's pleased face, his lidded eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Jack admonishes him, and he presses one finger into the sensitive skin behind Rhys' balls, hard enough to make him instinctively lean back, away from the touch.

With Nisha like a solid wall behind him, he doesn't manage to get very far.

“Don't break him before I got my chance to play with him.” Nisha presses her lips to his tattoo, and she must be sharing a meaningful look with Jack, because his alpha laughs throatily, and together they slowly slide Rhys' boxers down his thighs, leaving him naked but for his socks, his cock half-hard already.

A noise of disgust, and Rhys turns around to Nisha, who's holding his boxers delicately between two fingers.

“What's with _those_? Are you colourblind?”

Rhys can feel his flush deepen, and for a moment he almost forgets that he's standing stark naked between two fully dressed alphas. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Says the one dressed all in black and violet.”

Nisha narrows her eyes at him, lets the boxers fall to the floor, and Jack's palms settle warm and heavy on his hips. She spreads her arms slightly, looking a Rhys imperiously. “Go on, undress me.” One corner of her mouth tilts up. “Oh, and call me _Ms. Kadam_.”

For some reason that makes Jack chuckle, a warm huff against the nape of Rhys' neck. Obviously, Rhys is missing something here. _Again_. He pushes that annoying thought away quickly, steeling himself before he touches the hem of her top, carefully lifting it, hoping his nervousness isn't too apparent.

Her breasts fill out the no-nonsense bra very nicely, her skin a pretty contrast to its bright purple. The top joins the pile of his clothes, and Rhys forces his eyes away from her breasts, back up to her face.

Nisha's looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow arched.

To hell with modesty. Rhys presses himself against her front, her breasts soft against his chest, his cock against her clothed thighs.

Jack moves with him, remains a warm and comforting presence at his back. Nisha's hair feels nice against his cheek when he presses his face against it. He lays his metal hand against her crotch, draws his left arm around her back. His fingers make quick work of the clasps of her bra, and Rhys really wants to pat himself on the back right now for having practised to do that a long time ago. The bra falls away from her chest, and he carefully draws it out from between them, letting it fall to the floor as well.

Nisha's breath ghosts over his collarbone, her hands joining Jack's on his hips. “Already one thing he's better at than you, baby.” She presses herself forward, breasts squished against Rhys' front.

Jack snorts, his fingers pinching Rhys' hips, making him shiver. “Showoff. Bet it was just a fluke.”

Rhys huffs, his metal fingers working on Nisha's fly. “Not a fluke. I practised.”

A low growl, and Jack bites none too gently at the nape of his neck, voice low. “Oh, yeah? Who'd you practice on?”

Nisha meets his eyes, both eyebrows raised now, and Rhys smiles winningly at her. “Myself, mostly. Fumbling with bra clasps isn't really a good prelude to sexy times, if you know what I mean.” He winks at her, pointedly leaving out his test runs with Yvette.

Nisha whistles, dark lips stretched into a wide smile, and behind Rhys, Jack curses.

Rough palms wander up his sides before they splay out over his chest, one finger worrying over each nipple. Jack hisses quietly, his erection all too obvious, thanks to his loose fitted trousers, and Rhys tries not to gloat too much about the effect he has on his alpha. “Damn, princess. I was wondering why you didn't make a fuss when I made you wear a bra for me.”

“Your little boy toy is just full of surprises, isn't he?” Nisha takes his chin into a firm hold again, considers him while he slides her jeans down her legs until she can step out of them. This time he doesn't hesitate, fingers quickly helping her out of her violet panties as well. He falls to his knees in front of her, Jack's hands resting loosely on his throat, one of Nisha's fisted into his hair while he unrolls her dark socks from her feet.

Naked as well, she takes a step back, one hand resting loosely at her hip while she looks at him with a small smile on her lips. “Well?”

Rhys stands back up again, and Jack is mouthing at his neck now, his fingers moving back to relentlessly pinch his already aching nipples. The alpha makes an appreciative sound in the back of his throat, pressing it into Rhys' skin.

Rhys would absolutely echo that, but he doesn't think that would be an acceptable reaction to and for her. Jack's grinding his groin against his ass, and Rhys shivers at the rough drag of Jack's clothes against his skin. He swallows, eyes slowly trailing over Nisha's body, taking her in in her entire glory, right down to her trimmed pubic hair.

The thing is... she's not beautiful, at least not in a conventional sense. There's a sharpness to her, the way she holds herself. Contrary to Jack's mostly faded scars, hers are much more apparent and numerous, stark bright lines against her skin. Where Jack took measures to make his fade, she's wearing them with pride, and it makes Rhys wonder.

He tries not to linger for too long on any of the scars, afraid it would seem disrespectful. But he's curious about them, the gashes on her thighs, healed bullet wounds at her side and the rough tears at her throat he can't quite make sense of.

Still smiling, Nisha tilts her head slightly, baring her throat. Apparently he wasn't as stealthy as he thought he was. “Had a dog once,” she says in low tones, “until I put it down.”

He nods, and Jack's hands move back down, settling on Rhys' hips again, his breath a comforting reminder, a reassurance.

There's something heavy in the air between them, and Rhys absently wonders if this is a test. By _whom_ though, he can't say. Much like what will happen, should he fail it.

Nisha stares at him through lidded but still keen eyes. “Well?”

 _Okay, be cool, Rhys. You can do this._ “You are...” Shit, shit, shit. He falters, and she waves a hand at him to continue.

Pretty? More befitting for her underwear, but not her person. Beautiful? Appropriate, but too easy, and probably not something she'd appreciate.

What other words are there? He's sweating, palms pressed against his legs. If he could only activate his ECHO eye, there's probably a billion fitting adjectives waiting for him just beyond his reach.

Nisha snorts. “Seems like I already broke him, Jack.”

The light catches on her arms, on the well defined muscles there, and Rhys is pretty sure Nisha could bench press him without breaking a sweat. Jack as well, probably. She looks like she kills at least five bandits before Rhys even had breakfast. 

Apparently Rhys is super into that, because his cock is fully hard now, curved and dark between them.

He can't help it, just like with Jack. She's really hot and— “Scary,” he blurts out, and has to fight against the urge to facepalm himself hard with his metal hand. 

Why does that keep happening to him?

Rhys could swear that the doctors and scientists wired something wrong in his brain when they put the cybernetics into him, except he can also remember his mouth frequently getting him into trouble before, so.

There's a drawn out moment of silence, and Rhys is resigned to getting kicked out now, either by Jack or by Nisha or by the both of them.

Then Nisha snorts, shaking with the force of her laughter, and after another second, Jack pats his hip, chuckling. “How sweet, that's the nicest compliment I've gotten in a while.” She advances on them, a small smile on her lips. Rhys gasps when Nisha's hand curls around his cock and _tugs_.

He follows her — of course he does — away from a now outright cackling Jack who slowly trails after them, over to the massive bed in front of the windows.

Once there, Nisha lets go of his cock, and Rhys tries manfully not to whine. She scoots backwards, until her back is against the head of the bed, parts her legs in invitation.

Rhys puts one knee onto the bed, slips his socks quickly off his feet. He leans forward—

Strong hands wrap around his shoulders, stopping him, and Rhys turns around, stares up at Jack's amused face.

“My turn, Rhysie,” Jack says, letting go and spreading his arms expectantly.

Oh, right. Jack’s the only one still dressed. Rhys smiles sheepishly, raises one hand to his alpha's collar.

A sound of disagreement stops him, his attention moving back to Nisha.

She cooks her head at them, shakes it. “You can have that any time you want. I want to play now.” Nisha meets Rhys' eyes, winks at him conspiratorially while she beckons him closer with a painted fingernail. “Jack's a big boy, he can undress himself.”

“Oh, come on!” Jack whines, and Rhys looks at him out of the corners of his eyes, waiting for a confirmation, a signal.

Jack's actually _pouting_ , but he grumbles something under his breath before slapping Rhys' ass with an open palm and a resounding slap. “You heard the lady.” After a parting caress over Rhys' smarting skin, his fingers move to his vest, and after a moment of hesitation, Rhys crawls over to Nisha on all fours, honestly a bit confused by the dynamic here but mostly very into it.

He moves closer to her, until his knees touch her spread legs, but he doesn't quite now where to put his hands.

“Come on, touch me.” Her grin shows teeth. “I don't bite.”

Rhys is acutely aware of the clothes rustling behind him, and he longs for Jack's presence back at his side, because she's not any less imposing, even while lounging on a bed. He laughs awkwardly, scratches at his neck. “Not right away or not too hard?” Hesitantly, he puts his palms on her upper legs.

“To be honest, I can't promise you—” 

Nisha jerks slightly when Rhys places his metal hand on her skin, and he flinches back as if struck, tries to hide the arm behind his back. “Sorry, I usually ask, I can take it off, sorry, really, I don't mind—“

She leans up, tugs his metal arm back forward, presses the palm against her thigh with her own. “Just forgot how cold these things are before they warm up,” she says quietly, smiling with one corner of her mouth. Then she raises her voice. “It's been a while since I last fucked somebody with robotics.”

Rhys doesn't miss the accusatory undertone in her words, and apparently neither does Jack.

“Oh my god, you didn't even _like_ Wilhelm!” Jack seems torn somewhere between annoyed and exasperated. He flops down heavily on the bed to Rhys' left, naked, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Nisha shrugs with one shoulder, noticeably not denying Jack's claim.

Rhys doesn't know where to look at, Nisha's clit, soft and inviting or his alpha's cock, dark and heavy and familiar. Slick is already gathering inside of him, and he licks his lips, hisses when Nisha sinks her fingers into his hair, tugging him down pointedly.

He bends down willingly, relieved to have that decision made for him. Rhys splays his fingers out over the inside of her upper legs, letting his breath ghost over her pink flesh and looking at her through lowered eyelashes. “Can I please eat you out, Ms. Kadam?” he asks her throatily, because it never hurts to make sure.

She huffs, draws her fingernails over his scalp. “I was just joking about that, but that's actually pretty hot.”

A rough sound of agreement from Rhys' left. “No kidding.” Jack leans foreword, eyes intent on both of them.

Nisha nods, her other palm curling loosely around Rhys' throat, her voice deep. “Show Ms. Kadam what else your mouth is good for.”

He stares up at her as he licks her clit, moaning softly when her taste hits his tongue, unsurprisingly just as heady as her scent. Rhys trails his fingers slowly over her skin, making sure his right thumb has warmed up before he uses it to gently part her folds, pushing his tongue against her warmth.

She hums, strokes over his head, deliberately mussing up his carefully styled hair and Rhys couldn't care less if he tried. He pushes his tongue into her, closing his eyes when he feels her clench around him.

“Did you deal with the people who made him feel so insecure about that part of himself?” She taps against his metal arm. “I'm going to be very disappointed in you if you didn't, honey,” Nisha says conversationally, and Rhys would be put upon at her making small talk with his alpha while he's working hard on getting her off, but he can taste her wetness, so he knows he's still got this.

Jack snorts, one of his fingers tracing over Rhys' back. “I'm hurt you've even got to ask, honey. They all left Helios rather... enlightened.”

Rhys feels his heart flutter inside of his chest. That's... that's actually really sweet of him—

Both Jack and Nisha erupt into ominous laughter in the next moment, and Rhys raises his head slowly, stares at his alpha with a frown. “Wait a second. Jack, tell me you _didn't_ just kill all the people who were uncomfortable with my arm.”

Nisha lets go of Rhys' hair only for one of Jack's hands to take its place, forcing Rhys closer to his alpha's smirking face. “I didn't _just_ kill them, princess. I sat them on fire and then spaced the hell out of their ungrateful asses.” Jack's voice is low, tight with dark satisfaction, and Rhys' head is spinning, trying to figure out how many people Jack apparently murdered _for him without even telling him_ , how Jack could have possibly known—

Jack crashes their mouths together, and Rhys gasps, leaving Jack's tongue the perfect opening to plunge into while he holds Rhys in place roughly.

He's panting when Jack ends the kiss, his lips almost smarting, and he stares at Jack with wide eyes.

Jack licks over Rhys' mouth, purrs. “My two favourite flavours all in one, nice.”

Rhys blinks at him, breathing heavily, still unable to comprehend what he just learned or how he feels about it. 

Nisha clears her throat pointedly, and they both turn to look at her. “I appreciate you boys putting on a show for me, and that was positively heart-warming, _but_ —” She arches an eyebrow, grabs at Rhys' hair again, and tugs him back down until Jack lets go. “Before you two had your moment, beany here was in the middle of something.”

Rhys parts her folds again, tilts his head. “Beany?”

She grins, digs her fingernails into his scalp once more. “Beanpole was too long, and now stop talking and be a good boy.”

Rhys is unable to suppress the pleasant shiver from claiming him at her commanding tone and voice. He leans forward, intent on being good for her when two fingers suddenly tease at his opening, and he moans.

Jack leans closer to him, supporting himself on one arm while his other one is a heavy weight on Rhys' ass. “You like that, don't you, being a good little boy for her?”

Instead of answering, Rhys licks into Nisha again, the thumb of his left hand pressing down on her clit, his cock hard and aching for stimulation.

Nisha makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat, strokes roughly over his head.

“Wanna tell her what else you like,” Jack grumbles quietly, breath warm against Rhys' ear, “ _baby girl_.”

Rhys whines, presses his eyes shut firmly. He can feel himself flush even more, his cock dripping onto the bed.

Nisha laughs, positively delighted. “Really?” She scratches over the back of Rhys' neck, probably leaving red welts behind, and then Jack pushes a finger into his ass, as deep as it will go.

“Tell her how wet you already are for us, baby girl.” He presses another finger against Rhys' hole, spreading the leaking slick there.

Trembling, Rhys rests his forehead against Nisha's thigh, dizzy with Jack's words, his teasing and her smell, tick with arousal, filling his mouth and lungs. “Please, daddy,” he whimpers, thready and high, jolting almost with the surge of _need_ that rushes through him.

Nisha tugs his head up, pushes two fingers into his mouth and Rhys opens his eyes again. She grins at him, voice a throaty purr. “Give mommy your best, and I'll make sure daddy takes good care of you.” The fingers on his tongue press down. “Sounds good?”

He groans around them, nodding enthusiastically.

Jack pushes another finger into him at the same time, leaving him shivering.

Rhys leans back down, eats her out with vigour while his alpha prepares him slowly, basking in the attention and murmured encouragement of two so powerful alphas.

Nisha presses his head down further then, sounding breathy when she says, “He looks so pale. Does he bruise easily?”

Jack chuckles. “Like he was made for it.” He rubs the palm of his other hand against Rhys' balls, and Rhys moans brokenly into Nisha's wet heat, wondering if this will already be enough to make him come.

Nisha drags her fingernails over his left shoulder in the next instant, hard enough to hurt, to make Rhys arch into it, his cock and hole leaking even more freely. “Nice,” she decides appreciatively, and Rhys wants to _earn_ that, wants to make her come.

He presses himself even closer against her, his nose into her trimmed, dark curls, and his tongue as deep into her as possible. Rhys has to place his metal hand on her thigh to steady himself, shaking with the slow movements of his alpha's fingers, in and out of his ass. It's too much and not enough all at once. He uses his left hand to push her folds apart, one finger rubbing over her clit, and after a loud exhale, Nisha digs her fingernails into the back of his head, filling his mouth with her wetness.

Rhys has barely realised that there's nothing stretching him anymore when rough hands pull his ass up, Jack a warm weight against his back, and then Jack fucks into him in one, two, rough trusts with a low growl and a hissed curse.

Rhys groans against Nisha's upper leg, his metal finger digging into her skin. He jolts once he notices what he's doing, but again her hands stop him from taking his own away. Blinking sweat from his sight, Rhys stares up at Nisha's face, her lowered eyes, the pleased tilt of her mouth. “I don't mind some bruises, beany.” She presses his hand down hard. “In fact, I'll be very disappointed if you don't leave me any.” Nisha looks at Jack then, voice calm. “I can't remember telling you to go ahead.”

“Aw, come on, baby, you've had your fun.” But to Rhys' amazement, Jack stops moving, keeping himself still, deep inside of Rhys.

Nisha ignores him, curls her hands around Rhys' throat. She draws him up until their faces are almost touching, and Jack can do little but follow her directions, still joined with Rhys while she's examining Rhys closely. One of her fingers traces over his lips, probably red and bruised, and then her mouth is on his.

He opens to her on instinct alone, and she makes a quiet, appreciative sound, pushing it between his lips with her tongue. It's not... it's not like kissing Jack, and maybe he should finally stop comparing the two of them. Kissing isn't really a Jack thing, not something he indulges in often, but Nisha takes her time mapping out his mouth, her eyes on him the entire time.

Rhys has to close his own all too soon, because it's too much — Jack inside of him, so thick and _not moving_ while Nisha seems intent on claiming his mouth for her own.

A jolt travels through him when her tongue touches his, her thumbs caressing over his cheeks, and he hesitantly follows her lead, moaning helplessly. It's almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sounds they're making and Jack shifts his hips a bit, leans forward, his breath warm against Rhys' sweaty shoulder.

“Come on, please?” Jack says, voice deep, drawing out the last word.

Nisha ends their kiss, licking a long swipe over Rhys' tingling lips in parting. She turns her head to the side then, looking at Jack with one eyebrow raised. “Something you want, babe?”

Jack leans his head against Rhys' temple, his fingers flexing on Rhys' thighs. He huffs. “Not gonna lie, I'm feeling a bit left out right now.”

Rhys swallows a breathless laugh, but Nisha has no such qualms. But she grabs for Jack's chin, draws him in, and Jack leans forward eagerly. The motion presses Rhys forward, ends with his palms on Nisha's shoulders, his face between her breasts. 

Honestly, it's the opposite of a problem.

He mouthes at the soft skin on her chest, intently listening to the loud noises above him, and if he could just draw one of his hands down, a simple graze against his hard cock would probably be enough to make him come immediately.

A whine tears out of his throat when one of Jack's hands wander to the inside of his thigh, so close to where he needs the touch the most.

Jack and Nisha part, and then his alpha moves back slightly while Nisha fits her palms around Rhys' head, tilting it up until their eyes meet once more.

There's a moment of tense anticipation, and then a slow smile spreads over her violet, slightly smudged lips. “Make him scream.”

A small sound of triumph, and Rhys has only enough time to widen his eyes at Nisha before Jack draws his hips back, pushing back into Rhys with enough force to make the air in his lungs leave him in a gasp.

Jack groans. “ _Finally._ ”

Rhys clenches around the intrusion, the rough rhythm Jack sets for them. His fingers are diggings into Nisha's shoulders, and all she does is fit her palms around his throat, the corners of her mouth curling up even further.

He moans into the air between them when Jack hits his prostate, wet enough already that slick is leaking down his legs, every push into him loud and messy, and he's going to come like this, untouched, Nisha's dark eyes watching him fall apart—

Nisha slips a thumb into his gasping mouth, voice a mere purr. “And don't let him come.”

And Jack _laughs_ , one hand hastily reaching underneath Rhys, because he knows Rhys' body, the signs. 

The large palm curls around his cock, nearly engulfing it completely, and Rhys makes a muffled sound of outrage when the fingers tighten around its base, stalling the orgasm before it can be more than a promising tingle in his stomach. 

He stares at Nisha with narrowed eyes, feeling betrayed and hurt, a desperate mixture.

She only presses her thumb deeper into his mouth, stopping his tongue before he can form more than an angry grumble with it. “I've got plans for you, Rhys. Just be a good little boy now,” she tells him in low tones, and the way she says his name, the foreboding promise wrapped around it, makes his skin run even hotter.

Jack lets out a long breath, his finger digging into Rhys' hip. “Hell, yeah.” And he stops holding back then, the grip he has on Rhys' cock almost painful.

Rhys is trapped between them, barely able to hold himself above Nisha while Jack's fucking him with all of his strength, forcing his knot in and out of Rhys' wet hole. Nisha's legs are pressing in on either side of him, holding him still for Jack to use, and he can't— He'll go _insane_.

He whimpers something that was supposed to be his alpha's name, indecipherable thanks to the helpless sounds pushed out of him and the finger still in his mouth, but still Jack's hairy chest settles on his back in the next instant, breath fanning over the side of Rhys' face.

“You heard the lady,” Jack murmurs, voice rough. “You're doing so good, baby girl, I know you can take it.” And then he presses a hard, uncoordinated kiss against Rhys' temple, half of it landing on the port there, making Rhys' back arch, a hoarse scream tearing out of his throat.

His alpha curses viciously, his hips stuttering forward, and he forces himself deep inside of Rhys, filling him with warm come. The knot grows, stretching Rhys until it's almost unbearable, and still Jack's hips are jerking forward, seemingly unable to stay still.

Nisha lets out a shuddering sigh, and Rhys tries to focus his glazed eyes on her face again. She's biting her lip, eyes half shut in concentration. Her thumb smears wetness across his cheek, and Rhys hadn't even realised that he's crying or that she had been fingering herself with her other hand.

Drool is running down his chin, dripping from it, and there's a high, needy sound coming out of his throat, and Rhys is unable to stop it.

A quiet moan, and Nisha closes her eyes, a shiver running down the entire length of her body, travelling over to both Jack and Rhys where their bodies are touching.

Jack licks slowly down the side of his face, licking the sweat from it, and then he bites into Rhys' neck, into the bond scar he left there weeks ago, and Rhys is coming, he's going to, he _can't_.

He sobs, his fingers spasming on Nisha's shoulders, his cock cruelly caught in Jack's unyielding hold. “Please.” He sucks in a shallow breath. “Please, please, please.” Maybe he didn't satisfy her, maybe she's _disappointed_ in him, and that hurts, makes him tremble even harder. “I'll do _anything_.” 

Nisha's fingers are so gentle on his face, something almost mellow on her features. “Oh, I know, baby. Just give mommy a moment.” She presses his head down until it's resting against her chest again, and Rhys tries to relax, tries to let his alpha's knot, Nisha's hands and their combined scents calm the storm wrecking his body.

Jack has finally stopped jerking inside of him, his large palm wandering over Rhys' back, his thighs, his chest, the other one still holding Rhys' cock.

Eventually the trembling calms to a shiver, and then there's a finger on his ass, tracing over where Jack's knot is stretching him open, and Rhys moans helplessly, open mouthed into Nisha's skin.

“What does it feel like? Last I remember you weren't really into it,” she says sardonically, pressing her hand fully against Rhys' opening and Jack's cock, drawing low sounds out of both of them.

Jack's quiet for a while, idly stroking over Rhys' stomach with his free hand. Then he huffs, a small, somewhat surprised sound. “Feels a bit like grinding the last pathetic pieces of Dahl into dust all over again.”

Nisha makes a thoughtful sound, applies enough pressure to where they are connected to make Jack grunt and Rhys keen. “Why did we two never do this?”

There's a moment of silence while Rhys is still trying to figure out what Jack's words are supposed to mean, and then he startles, because Jack and Nisha are laughing, loud and carefree.

“As if you'd ever let me do that with you.” Jack snorts, probably shaking his head behind Rhys. “Honestly, I can't even imagine it happening.”

“Would have cut your cock right off of you if you so much as tried, lover boy,” Nisha replies in kind, drawing lazy circles on Rhys' neck with a fingernail.

Jack rotates his hips, his knot slowly coming loose. He doesn't sound miffed, only amused when he says, “That's a bit more blood than I enjoy.” Grunting, he pulls out of Rhys, and Rhys whimpers at the loss, body so sensitive it almost feels like he's burning.

Rhys bucks helplessly into Jack's fist, seeking relief, and Jack playfully slaps his ass, right over Rhys' hole, where Jack's semen is leaking out of him. He whimpers, his fingernails digging into Nisha's skin.

Fingers push into him, two, no three, and Rhys never would have guessed that losing your mind would be a process you could be actively aware of.

“Sloppy little thing.” Nisha purrs into his hair, and the fingers pull out of him with a wet noise, one digging into the soft skin behind his aching balls. “Don't come.”

And finally Jack lets go of his cock, his warmth leaving Rhys' legs. He bites his bottom lip hard, closes his eyes and tries his best to follow her order while two pairs of hands turn him around, arranging him to their liking until he's laid out flat on his back. Rhys blinks one eye open, staring down at himself, at his cock, dark red and curved above his stomach.

Both alphas are kneeling on his side, leaning above him, and Rhys shudders when Jack wraps a hand around his left ankle, a small smile on his lips. They're smudged slightly with Nisha's lipstick, and Rhys wonders if he has even more of it on his own lips.

Nisha places her hand on his heaving chest, follows the lines of his blue tattoo with an amused tilt of her head. “I can see why you keep this one around.” 

His alpha only hums in answer, and when she doesn't elaborate, just continues touching him, Rhys forces his last remaining brain cells to work again. “It's because he tends to gets rather rough, and has already voided the warranty,” he jokes breathlessly, his fingers clenched into the bed covers, unsure if he's allowed to touch.

Jack chuckles quietly, shaking his hand, and his thumb presses into the thin skin above Rhys' ankle as if to make a point.

“Oh, I don't doubt that.” Nisha raises an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth titled upwards indulgently. “But I'm pretty sure it's because you're very malleable and obedient, and look great aroused out of your pretty little head.”

Rhys opens his mouth, closes it again, staring up at her with wide eyes while blood rushes to his cheeks, and Jack laughs throatily.

Nisha throws one leg over Rhys, sits down low on his stomach, his cock nudging against her ass.

He whimpers manfully, eyes focusing on her breasts and her dark lips in turn.

“Are you ready for your reward, beany?” She wraps a hand around his chin, tilting it up slightly, her other one a gentle weight on his upper leg.

Rhys nods enthusiastically, trying not to squirm underneath her warm weight.

“You've been a very good boy, and I'm very pleased with what you can do with that tongue of yours.” She tilts her head, looks to the side. “Contrary to other people, you pay a lot of attention to your bed partner.”

Jack flops down onto his front beside them, chin propped up on a fist, his lips pursed. “Hey, I resent the implication. I'm _great_ in bed.” He grins at Rhys, waggles his eyebrows. “Isn't that right, Rhysie?”

Rhys smiles helplessly at him, can't really do anything else.

Nisha turns his face back towards her. “Ignore him, we both know he's as selfish as they come.” She ignores Jack's sputter of indignation, slowly slides back until his cock is lying against her wet heat, and he moans, hips bucking up. “I'm going to let you fuck me now, how about that?”

Her voice is low, wrapping itself around his tingling senses, and he bites the inside of his cheek, the image enough to almost make him come, right then and there—

A snort. “Oh, please. You'd probably get more out of it if you let him fuck you with his pinky finger,” Jack says, an observation without any malice behind it, and Rhys closes his eyes, feeling himself flush even further.

Above him, Nisha moves, and then there's a noise of flesh meeting flesh, and Jack lets out a pained hiss. When Rhys opens his eyes again, Nisha is back on top of him, a wide grin on her lips. “Don't listen to the grouchy man-child,” she tells him, almost sweetly. “You've earned your reward, don't you agree?”

Rhys nods again, more hesitant this time, and Nisha caresses the side of his face with calloused fingertips.

“And don't worry — if he doesn't shut up, I'm going to kick him out.”

A small sound from their right, an intake of breath as if Jack is about to say something to that, and Nisha turns her head to him, sending him a look sharp like a knife.

Jack remains silent, apart from a sullen grumble, and Nisha turns her attention back to Rhys, her eyes lidded. 

He carefully moves his hands to her hips, but before he can make contact, Nisha shakes her head, expression amused. “Arms above your head, baby.” She raises herself up on to her lower legs, one hand on Rhys' collarbone and the other on his thigh. Nisha keeps herself above Rhys, her smile showing teeth. “Don't come until I tell you to.”

Rhys hastily puts his arms above his hand, fingers gripping each other, and then she takes his cock, lowers herself onto it. He groans, holding himself still, eyes screwed shut while her warmth envelops him.

She makes a soft sound, an approving purr, and thankfully doesn't move, because Rhys is very sure he'd be gone instantly. 

After the long wait right on the edge, he feels everything even more now, how tight she is, how well his smell mingles with hers and Jack's, like it was meant to be like this. Jack's come is dripping out of his sore hole, slowly coating his balls, and that's not a feeling he's used to anymore. 

It probably doesn't help that it's been a while since he last bedded a woman. Rhys doesn't fool himself in that regard, he can't really give them all that much with his cursedly small omega penis. It's why he's been such a diligent learner, especially once he met Yvette. He's so sensitive, it doesn't take all that much to get him riled up, but it's only really fun for him when the other person enjoys themselves as well. 

Nisha shifts slightly, and Rhys sucks in a sharp breath, fingers spasming on empty air. She's watching his face avidly, a satisfied curl to her mouth, shifts again, starting a slow rhythm, and Rhys digs his feet into the bedding, willing himself not to come right away, to listen to her earlier command.

She clenches around him, hot and wet, and _tight_ , and Rhys wants to touch her so badly, her skin, her scars, her breasts, it takes the rest of his willpower not to reach out.

Jack's suddenly behind her, dropping something on her head, and Rhys hadn't even realised his alpha had left the bed and wandered off. “Gotcha something, babe. If you're riding my Rhysie here, you should look the part.”

Rhys blinks the sweat from his eyes, focusing on her—

Cowboy hat.

Jack put the cowboy hat on Nisha's head.

There's a quiet second, and even Nisha seems startled, and then she snorts, ends up laughing and Rhys joins her, even as keyed up as he is.

He's pretty sure the last time he had this much fun during sex was with Yvette and Vaughn, and even though Nisha and Jack are nothing like his friends, it's— it's a nice feeling, soothing away the sharp edges arousal cut into him, and all the while Jack watches them both with a raised eyebrow, a deeply satisfied tilt to his lips.

Nisha's still laughing softly when she starts moving again, her strong thighs shifting on either side of him, and Rhys' laughter turns into something more like a breathless giggle. The cowboy hat sits a bit lopsided on her head, pressing the sweaty curls of her hair against her forehead. Her mouth is open slightly, her eyes dark and intent, a slight flush to her cheeks, and Rhys is pretty sure his cock is doing very little for her, and that she's getting off entirely on having him so helplessly under her. 

Again, he can't see a problem here, except that he really, really wants to touch her, and his fingers flex, clutching each other while she's riding him hard.

Her eyes flicker up for a second, and then she leans forward, grabbing both of his hands. “Remember, beany: Bruises.” She places his left one on her thigh, and his metal palm on her left breast, presses them firmly against her skin, and Rhys whimpers, hips bucking up into her. Nisha clenches down on him _hard_ , flashing him a smile that is all teeth. “Come for me, baby.”

And Rhys is a good boy, because his body follows her order before his mind has even fully registered it — he arches up into her wet heat, his teeth clicking together with the force of the orgasm rushing through him.

It's entirely possible that he blacks out for a moment, because he comes to with his head on Nisha's chest, her fingers in his hair and on his back. Rhys mumbles something incoherent into her skin, looking down at the length of their entwined bodies. He's lying half on top of her, her legs on either side of him while Jack's are sprawled on top of both of theirs.

Jack has his eyes closed, fingers clasped on his stomach, and Nisha's fingers look very nice on Rhys' ass, and so do the red lines he's pretty sure she must have left there.

Even in the huge room the air smells thickly of sex, the combined scents of the alpha's clinging to his skin, and Rhys can already feel himself fall into it all.

His eyelids drop, and he stares unfocused at Nisha's stomach while her fingernails scratch over his scalp, up and down, making him purr and relax even further.

“Alright, enough lazying around.” Jack claps his hands, sitting up. He slaps Rhys' ass, and Rhys jumps slightly, eyeing him dazedly. “Go and grab a plug for your sweet hole, princess. I'll even let you decide which one it'll be today,” Jack says, his back to them while he's getting up from the bed. He rotates his shoulders, already sending a buzz of energy through the bond. “The grown ups have work to do.”

Right. Rhys squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, pushing the tide of calm away from his thoughts. 

He'd forgotten.

Rhys presses a parting kiss between Nisha's breasts, hoping he'll be able to stave off the drop — already an uncomfortable itch in the back of his throat — until he's back home again. He doesn't even want to imagine how bad it'll be this time, getting kicked out by two alphas. Suppressing a shudder, he raises up on his arms, carefully not looking at Nisha's face when her fingers fall away from his hair.

And then Nisha _laughs_ , and Rhys can't help but flinch. 

It hurts, and he was stupid to thing she'd be different, that she would have another outlook on 'needy omega bullshit' than his alpha. He grits his teeth, willing himself to be strong until he can curl himself around Yvette and Vaughn, and let them pet away the poisonous rejection already gnawing away at him.

He straightens his back, eyes fixed on the rumbled sheets.

Nisha's laughter cuts off abruptly, and the hand on Rhys' back moves up to take his neck into a firm hold. “Wait.” She tilts his head up, and Rhys isn't quick enough to school his expression. He doesn't know what she's able to see before he manages it, but she's frowning at him, one eyebrow raised. Her eyes flicker over to Jack, her fingers tickling slightly over the nape of Rhys' neck. “You're not joking.”

To say Rhys is confused would be an understatement.

Holding himself tense above Nisha, he waits for the other shoe to drop.

It's almost a relief when Jack sounds just as baffled as Rhys feels. “Why would I be joking? You're here for a job, baby, and there are still some details I need to fill you in about.”

There's a pause, and Nisha makes no move to let go of Rhys, just keeps staring at Jack, expression thoughtful.

“Come on, we can play again tomorrow.” Jack's voice changes, gaining an exasperated note. “Rhysie needs some time to recuperate anyway.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Nisha says, talking right over the end of Jack's sentence, something Rhys has never witnessed anybody dare to do before. “You fuck him, shove a plug into him and send him away, hoping it'll stick?”

The way she puts it, the nonplussed way she says it, makes Rhys' face heat up, his fingers digging into the lines while he stares resolutely at the scars on her throat.

Jack exhales loudly, turning around to them again by the sounds of it. “Why are you being so weird right now, baby? Are you jealous you didn't get any of that handsome cock? Is that what this is about?”

A very slow smile spreads across Nisha's lips then, and Rhys has just enough time to worry, for a very unsettling feeling to drop low into his stomach before she's laughing, mouth open wide, making Rhys shake with the force of it. “Oh, my god,” she manages to gasp out after a while, and there are actual _tears_ at the corners of her eyes. “This is hilarious, I can't wait to tell Moxxi about this.”

Great, another name Rhys can't really do anything with. Except... He frowns. He's pretty sure he heard it somewhere before or read about it somewhere?

He'd rather concentrate on that new person he might have or might not have heard about before than think about the situation he's in right now: Naked and pretty vulnerable, trapped between one alpha who wants him gone — his own — and another one who's not letting him leave.

Jack's answer cuts through him like a knife, even if the undertone of anger in it is not directed at him. “Since when are you in contact with old balloon tits? And for that matter, when did you go from calling her a painted whore to Moxxi?” His voice moves closer then, until it's right next to them, and goosebumps break out all over Rhys' skin, something like unnerving static washing over him.

Nisha shrugs, apparently not aware of the alarm bells ringing loudly inside of Rhys' head or maybe she's immune to them. She presses Rhys down against her chest again, and the ever growing part of Rhys that's starved for affection right now makes him go easily. “Since we got talking about _you_ , actually, and since we agreed that you're a bad habit that needs to be dropped instantly.”

Rhys tilts his head slightly to the side, manages to catch a glimpse of his alpha, sitting cross-legged next to them, arms in front of his chest. And yeah, Rhys totally understands Jack's pointedly raised eyebrow, because they're still naked together on a bed right now, the air still smelling of sex.

An amused huff, and Nisha trails her fingers slowly over Rhys' side. “I never saw the point in only doing things that are good for me.”

“Just in case you managed to forget it: She betrayed and almost killed us.”

Nisha shrugs with one shoulder. “I understand collateral damage. It wasn't anything personal.” She laughs quietly. “At least not in my case.”

Jack narrows his eyes, lips pursed. “She bribed you, didn't she.”

The fingers on Rhys' neck wander, and then they're pressing down on the bond scar on the side of it, and a small sound tears out of Rhys' sound, followed instantly by a low growl from Jack.

“But enough about Moxxi,” Nisha says cheerfully. “I'd much rather talk about how you're basically the worst alpha I've ever met, _honey_.”

Jack's voice drops even lower, and the unpleasant static crackling along Rhys' nerves only increases. “You know that you've got several things going for you. It's why I'm keeping you around.” He grabs Rhys' ankle again, and Rhys jolts at the sudden, firm contact. “But I won't have you talk to me like this in front of my omega, _Nisha_.”

She really is immune to Jack's anger, because she chuckles, right into his face. “Your omega? Are you sure about that, Jack?” 

Her fingers are so gentle on Rhys' body, a direct contrast to her words, and she smells so nice, and Rhys smells of her and his alpha, and it's getting harder and harder to keep his head up above the current trying to pull him under. 

Nisha presses her face against the top of his head, voice an almost loving whisper. “Do you have somebody to take care of you, baby, when this asshole lets you deal with the mood drops on your own?”

His alpha snorts, sounding almost relieved when he says, “That's what this is about? I can't believe somebody got buying into that crap. Newsflash, babe: Drops aren't a thing.”

The hands on Rhys' body still, and he realises that he probably just missed something, something _vital_. He sucks the next breath of air into his mouth, but it doesn't help. It only makes him even more aware that he still has Nisha's taste on his tongue, and then her fingers go back to caressing his tingling skin, and—

“Oh? Who told you that load of crap?” She traces over the bruises on his hips, and Rhys shivers.

“I know you like to pretend otherwise, but I've got friends, Nisha. We talk. About stuff.”

Nisha sighs, almost sounding pitying now. “You don't have friends, Jack.” She rubs circles into Rhys' tailbone, and Rhys mouthes at the skin between her breasts, exhaling shakily. “You've got people putting on masks for you, so you keep them around.”

Hands cradle Rhys' face then, tilting his head until he's blinking at Nisha's smiling face.

“It's your friends, right?” she coos. “The 'terrible influences'.” Nisha throws a glance Jack's way, and then her dark eyes are back on Rhys. “What were their names again? Vince and Jette?” She presses her thumbs against Rhys' bottom lip, a vicious edge to her smile. “I bet they know how to take care of such a lovely little thing like you.”

The awful feeling becomes stronger suddenly, until it's imminent enough for Rhys to suck in a sharp breath, and he's got only enough time to realise that it's coming from the bond, from _Jack_ , and then the fingers around his ankle tighten, forcing a whine out of his throat.

“Are you telling me,” Jack says, terrible and quiet, “that Rhysie here ran to those lowlifes as soon as we were done?”

“Calm down. You're upsetting him, and harshing my—”

“That he let them touch him, that he gets something from them that I can't give him?” Jack talks over Nisha as if he doesn't even hear her words, and Rhys turns his head, away from Nisha's hold, until he can see his alpha's face, the snarl on it. 

And Rhys wants to— he wants to reach out to Jack, to touch him, to tell him that he's got it all wrong. He wanted that from Jack, _still_ wants that from Jack. But he also really wants to have at least half of Helios between himself and his alpha right now, because Jack's anger was never directed at him like this.

Jack has never looked at him like this before, with eyes blazing with rage and betrayal. Only... no, that's not completely true, is it? Why can't Rhys _think_ right now.

Nisha inhales deeply, her hands flexing on Rhys' shoulders. “Jack, I'm serious. You need to—”

“Oh, I know what I have to do,” Jack says, and his laughter chills Rhys right down to the bone. “Seems like we need to have a talk, you and me, princess.”

His alpha leans closer, reaching out to Rhys with his other hand, and Rhys isn't breathing, staring helplessly at the twisted features of Jack's mask—

A mechanical click next his head, and everything just... stills.

Rhys' eyes flicker to the gun barrel right next to his face, aimed directly at Jack's head. He doesn't have the faintest idea where Nisha just got the pistol from, where she hid it, and he gladly lets his thoughts focus on that. His breathing speeds up, and still there's that awful feeling travelling through him, the echo of what Jack's feeling right now, terrible enough to make his eyes prickle.

Nisha sighs, a long gust of breath against the back of Rhys' neck. “Alright. _You_ need to relax as well, beany.”

And then there are two fingers on the right side of his neck, pinching—

Rhys makes a small, confused sound in the back of his throat, blinking his eyes open. His head is nestled between Nisha's breasts, her smell all around him, with hints of his alpha close by, and Rhys smiles, relaxing further against her body.

“—the hell did you do to him?”

His alpha sounds agitated, and Rhys tries to focus on him, to figure out the reason for that, but his eyes are drawn to the shiny pistol above him, and he blinks.

 _Where did that come from?_ It's not one of their models, the lines aren't sleek enough for that, and Rhys thinks it's kind of rude, to have a non-Hyperion gun in bed with Jack. Rhys frowns at it, unsure if he should bother activating his ECHO eye to scan it.

“Relax, cowboy. He's fine. In fact, I'd say he hasn't felt better in months.” Calloused fingers tip his chin up, and then he's looking at Nisha, at the pretty tilt of her mouth. “Isn't that right, baby?”

He hums, smiling back at her, and he's rewarded with gentle fingers scratching over the nape of his neck.

A weight settles next to his left side, and Rhys tries to count the scratchy hairs on his alpha's leg. Jack says, “Handy trick.”

Nisha nods, her eyes leaving Rhys' face, and Rhys closes his, pressing his face back against her warm skin. “They have this nerve at the side of their neck. Had to go through a lot of pissed off bandits to get my hands on enough unwilling guinea pigs to get it right.” She chuckles, flicks Rhys' ear. “When you get it wrong, you can damage their brain and permanently turn them into drooling wrecks. Which is fun as well.”

Rough fingers come to rest on the back of his left upper leg. “Huh.”

“Don't worry, honey. I've got it down, and beany here is just floating on higher spheres right now.” Her fingers card through Rhys' hair, which is nice as well, and he moves his arms around her, sucking on the side of her breast to show his appreciation. “Such a good boy. Which brings me back to you, and no, I'm not showing you how to do that.”

Jack huffs, his fingers slowly sliding up and down Rhys' leg. “Can you at least lower the gun? You've made your point. I'm calm, I'm basically a sparkling, still pond on a fucking summer day.”

Nisha laughs, making Rhys' head move with it in curious ways. “I don't know, seeing you down the barrel of my pistol is always such a good look on you.” 

But a heavy weight drops down on the lines next to them in the next moment, and Rhys eyes the almost archaic looking pistol for a second before he decides that he'd much rather look at Nisha's naked skin instead.

“Honestly, Jack. Did you just ignore your instincts when they were telling you to keep him close after you two fucked?”

“Babe, if I made a habit out of listening to what my instincts are telling me, I would never have made it this far.”

Nisha snorts and rolls her eyes. “What about his scent? You must have noticed _something_ off with it, whenever you kicked him out.”

Jack raises both eyebrows at her. “Nisha, darling, who _wouldn't_ smell kind of upset when I deprive them of my presence.” He laughs. “Now, if he hadn't smelt like somebody just drowned his puppy and made him watch, now _that_ would have been weird.”

Nisha stares at him, exasperated disbelief written in every line of her face.

Rhys makes a questioning noise and kisses the side of her breast.

“Congratulations, beany.” She pats his hip absently. “You've turned him into even more of a jackass.” Before Jack has a chance to say anything to that, she shakes her head. “Yeah, well, should have at least listened to your instincts and thought about something besides your colossal ego this time, tiger.” Nisha strokes down the length of Rhys' back, and the feeling of her fingernails on his skin makes him purr. “A post-sex omega is pretty much the best thing you can have around, but you're looking sceptical, so let dear Rhys here prove my point.”

She tilts Rhys' head up again until he's facing an amused looking Nisha. “Hello, pretty boy,” she says quietly, and Rhys grins at her, his cheeks heating up. “He's so mellow right now, if I asked him to eat me out again, he'd do it until his tongue would fall out.” She taps one finger against his lips. “Isn't that right, baby?”

It takes a moment for her words to sink it, to penetrate the thick cotton wrapped around his brain, and then Rhys licks his lips. “Sure,” he slurs, nodding eagerly.

Nisha laughs, delighted, pats his head before pressing it back against her chest.

A dry huff. “I never had any problems making Rhysie want to please me. Even without... this.”

Nisha makes a disgusted noise. “God, he's done truly terrible things to your ego, hasn't he?”

Jack digs his fingers into Rhys' thigh, drawing a low groan from him. “Amazing things, you mean.”

“Fine,” Nisha says, sounding genuinely irritated now, and Rhys presses his lips to her skin until her fingers are caressing him again. “Let me put it this way. Even the dumbest bandit on Pandora takes care of their omega after they fucked them, even if they don't know why. Nobody is slipping him anything anymore. Thanks to you leaving him alone to drop, his body knows that you're a terrible caretaker, and the chances of you actually knocking him up are pretty much in the negatives right now. Well done, Jack.”

The fingers on his leg still, and Rhys makes a confused sound.

Nisha shushes him, drags her fingernails over the back of his neck. “I can't believe you brought me here, because you were expecting this huge conspiracy and you were basically sabotaging yourself. Damn, this is probably the easiest job I'm ever going to get paid for, including the time I watched one of your eggheads space himself.”

“Who says I'm going to pay you?” Jack grumbles, his hand moving back down to Rhys' ankle. “You haven't actually completed the job I gave you, because — turns out — there's actually nothing _to_ complete.”

Under him, Nisha goes very, very still, and Rhys whines in complaint at the sudden change to the atmosphere, and he only calms when two pairs of hands start petting him again.

“Damn, honey, ease up on the murder look. Of course I'm gonna pay you _if_ you're right on this.”

Nisha sniffs. “You know better than to joke about money with me.” She curls a palm around Rhys' throat, and he leans into the restricting touch with a quiet exhalation of air. “And of course I'm right.”

Jack's weight settles over Rhys' back, his breath ghosting warmly over the space through Nisha's fingers. “Hey, babe. How you feeling?”

Rhys makes a contemplative sound, presses himself back against his alpha's body. “'m doin' good.”

“See? I haven't hurt your precious little omega. At least not more than you already have.”

Jack presses his lips between Rhys' shoulder blades, licks a wet line down his back. “How was I supposed to know I'd need a fucking manual for this.” He huffs against Rhys' skin, grumbles into it. “Always knew omegas were trouble.”

Nisha laughs into Rhys' temple. “Don't even pretend you're not a besotted fool for this one.” She taps the side of Rhys' face until he moves back slightly to blink at her, lets her trace over the contours of his face while he stares at her smudged lips, entirely fascinated. “He's obviously the face of this terrible duo, which means you should be the brains. Can't believe you didn't read up on this before you decided to go all domestic.”

Over the sound of Jack's protest she continues, “Or that _you_ apparently don't know how your biology works either, beany. You corporate people love to think that you're so much smarter, but I guess there are some areas the simplistic bandits just know more about.” She presses a fingernail against his bottom lip, and Rhys sucks the finger into his mouth with a smile, entirely deaf to her words.

She laughs throatily. “I think somebody wants to go another round.”

Jack growls, sneaks one hand between Nisha's and Rhys' bodies.

The palm splays out over Rhys' chest, and his alpha pushes them both back suddenly, making Rhys' squeak. Large, familiar hands arrange him until he's sitting against Jack's front, legs spread, his alpha's cock a heavy weight against his ass. The palms settle on the inside of Rhys' thighs, holding him open for Nisha's considering gaze.

Rhys' head falls forward slightly, looking down at himself, and until now Rhys wasn't even aware that his own cock was hard again.

“What do you say, baby. Wanna spread the rest of your lipstick over his cute little cock?” Jack rests his chin on Rhys' shoulder, voice nothing but a deep rumble that shivers over Rhys' skin like a touch.

Nisha's smile is all teeth. “Honey, I always knew you were a hopeless romantic.”

* * *

Rhys doesn't remember what followed after round one, except that there was a round two, and that his body is still buzzing from that.

He also knows that he must have missed something important in the snippets of conversation he can sort of recall, because otherwise he probably wouldn't be spread out over Jack's lap right now, getting spanked.

Jack's open palm comes down hard against his left cheek, and Rhys gasps, hands fisted into the lines, cock hard and leaking between Jack's thighs. “Four!” he manages to rasp, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving.

“I know my intellect is notorious in all six galaxies—” Jack ignores Nisha's snort, traces over Rhys' hole, still wet with his come, and Rhys concentrates on breathing, in and out, in and out. “But the day doesn't actually have enough hours to allow me to know everything there is to know.”

The finger vanishes, and that's all the warning Rhys has before the palm comes down on his right cheek this time, spreading the sting of it even further. He moans wetly, forehead pressed into the bed. “How was I supposed to know that you didn't know about drops, and that you weren't just being an asshole about it!” he shouts into the lines, more turned on than he really understands but still pretty sure that this can't possibly be entirely on him.

There's a pause, Jack's palm caressing over the stinging flesh.

“Somebody forgot to count,” Nisha sing-songs, and Rhys turns his head to her, blinking tears from his eyes.

She's as unapologetically naked as they are, painting her toe nails next to them, and smiles at the look of betrayal Rhys sends her way. “Sorry, beany. Those are the rules.”

Jack smacks his ass lightly, the contact still enough to make Rhys moan, his cock dripping. “At least somebody is paying attention here. See, communication is important, which is the lesson you're supposed to learn from this, so you don't end up going to other people again for something that is _mine_ to give to you. Back to one, princess.”

Rhys groans helplessly, presses his wet face back into the lines just as his alpha's hand comes down on his ass again. “One!” he presses out surly.

* * *

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Rhys says one day later, naked and sweaty. He's sprawled out over both alphas, his legs in Nisha's lap and his head in Jack's. He points at Jack, who seems weirdly entertained by mussing up Rhys' hair, letting it stick up whichever way he pleases. “You thought somebody was slipping me something to keep you from knocking me up, and Nisha was supposed to find out who it was?”

He's trying not to think about how apparently the awful drops he kept going through also kept him from becoming pregnant, and how there is almost nothing about that to be found on the ECHO net, apart from a few academic papers that are generally considered bullshit. That way lies only embarrassment and frustration, so. Rhys is not thinking about that.

Jack nods, a lazy grin on his lips. “Very good, Rhysie. Points for your new and improved listening skills.”

Rhys ignores him, and that Jack wasn't entirely wrong with his guess, at least not in the beginning. He folds his hand over his stomach. “And what were you supposed to do, once you found the evil doers?”

“Put a bloody and painful end to them, baby.” Nisha raises an eyebrow at him before going back to painting the toes of his left foot. “What do you think?”

He huffs, tilting his head slightly into Jack's fingers on his scalp. “Fair enough.” Violet isn't really a colour he wears often, but seeing as Nisha is already done with his right foot, it would be rude to stop her now. Plus, Rhys hasn't worn any nail polish in a while, and he misses it a bit.

“And you coming up here is kind of a big thing, because you've been laying low on Pandora for a few years now, is that right?”

Nisha nods, a look of concentration on her face while Rhys tries not to squirm in her grasp. His feet are really ticklish, and he doesn't want either of them to know that. That would definitely be too much power in irresponsible hands.

“And you had to fake your death, because of...” Okay, here's the part he isn't really sure he understood, and the part that usually makes Jack go all tense and terse. 

“Because of Jack's stupid plans,” Nisha says cheerfully, putting the nail polish away, inspecting her handiwork.

Jack draws his palm over Rhys' forehead, and Rhys' eyes flicker up to him, to the lopsided smile on his mouth. “Because of the fucking bandits. My plans were — and still are — perfect.”

“Sure, honey.” Nisha rolls her eyes, pats Rhys' knee. “Turn around, beany. Time to pretty up your fingernails.”

Rhys does, carefully, so he doesn't accidentally smudge the polish, but not before pressing a quick kiss against his alpha's chin. He's still unused to being kept around after sex, to the novelty of it.

He decides not to rub in how much work Jack put into detailing Rhys' daily life on Helios, and the dossiers — _actual dossiers_ — he put together about the people Rhys has regular contact with. Rhys is pretty sure the entire mess of paperwork is still spread out over the table in front of the sofa, but Rhys can be nice, when he wants to. It's too easy to kick a man who's already down.

At her pointing, he places his hand on his chest once more, his head against her stomach. “And what are you going to do now, instead of, you know, killing people?”

Nisha's leaning over him, giving him a great view of her breasts and upside-down grin. “I'm going to stick around for a few days. It's a bit like a vacation, and I haven't had one in a while.” She looks down at him suddenly, apparently all too aware of where his eyes were, and he can feel himself blushing under her dark, amused gaze. “And this is Helios, beany. There's always a bit of murder going around somewhere.”

Jack chuckles, fingers slipping into the small spaces between Rhys' toes, and Rhys swallows a giggle, a full body shudder travelling through him.

“If you mess up my work, I'm going to cut off your stupid sausage fingers, asshole.” Nisha stops painting Rhys' thumb, frowns at Jack.

“No reason to get the claws out,” Jack says, loosely holding onto Rhys' feet now, looking at them intently. He's... kind of calm, mellow, in a way Rhys doesn't think he has seen him before. 

Maybe this cuddling thing is a novelty to him as well.

“Hey, did you bring some yellow nail polish as well? I think that would look better on him.”

Nisha snorts. “As if you know anything about colours.” She picks up Rhys' hand, blowing gently on his fingernails. “He's going to wear purple now, and he'll be the prettiest girl on the playground.”

Rhys smiles and closes his eyes, letting their bickering wash over him.

* * *

When Nisha suggested she could show him how to use a gun while Jack is busy with a meeting, this... wasn't quite what Rhys thought would happen.

His chest is pressed against one of the tables in Jack's private shooting range, his trousers and boxers pooled around his ankles. He looks over his shoulder at Nisha, who's already busy working two of her fingers into his hole. A choked groan escapes him when she curls her fingers against his prostate, making more slick run down his thighs.

He'd be embarrassed by how easy she can get him going, but like Jack, she obviously knows what she's doing, how to press his buttons. Still...

“When you told me you'd teach me how to use a gun, I didn't think it would be quite this intimate?” he jokes breathlessly, trying to cover up his nervousness.

“Your posture is a joke, and you probably wouldn't survive an hour on Pandora, but we can build on this.” Nisha smiles, presses another finger into him, her voice low. “And you haven't been fucked properly until you've had the hard, unforgiving barrel of a pistol inside of you.”

A whimper escapes him, and he turns back around, letting his heated face thud against the smooth surface. Rhys thought after four days of constant sex and teasing he'd already be used to it, but apparently he was very wrong about that.

Nisha's other hand sneaks around to his front, fitting itself over his balls, and he bites his lip, hips stuttering forward into the contact. She leans over him, purrs into his ear, “Come on, baby. Let daddy hear what he's missing out on.”

Rhys turns his head slightly, confused. “What—”

Her fingers stab almost viciously against his prostate, and his moan echoes loudly in the vast room. She chuckles, licks a wet stripe over his temple. “You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, beany,” she says quietly, nodding towards their left. “The camera hasn't moved away from us even once since we entered, and if you don't think Jack's sitting in that meeting right now sporting a painful erection and putting the fear of god into the poor suckers who're keeping him away from you, then...” 

Nisha tilts his head until their mouths meet in an almost tender kiss. Her voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper against his lips, “Then you're giving your dear alpha _way_ too much credit.”

She strokes over his prostate again, pushes another helpless sound out of him before leaning back slightly.

“Oh, by the way, Jack.”

Rhys catches her wave the pistol at the camera, still feeling like he's seen it before today.

“This pretty thing is Moxxi's bribe.” She winks at the camera or at least he's pretty sure she does, and then she's back on him before he can wonder too much about what the hell that was about. 

Something hard presses against his opening, and he whines, trying to keep himself still, trying to keep from clenching up instinctively.

Her palm lands on the back of his neck, pushing him down more firmly against the desk, and Rhys relaxes, all too happy to let her take full control. “That's it, baby girl,” Nisha coos, nudging the tip of the barrel into his wet hole. “Open up wide for me.”

He inhales shakily when the long barrel slides slowly into him, still warm from their earlier practice. It's an unrelenting, almost punishing feeling, and he's trembling, panting for air.

“You know what? This is a very good look for my gun.” Nisha laughs, a rough and breathless sound. “I think I'm going to keep you.”

* * *

Rhys is sorry to see Nisha go, but after almost an entire week of sex, he really needs a bit of a break from the exhausting attentions of two alphas.

They're standing in the hanger bay area, deserted apart from the security guards, while they're waiting for Nisha to board the shuttle back to Pandora. Or, well, right now Rhys is waiting for Jack and Nisha to stop eating each others' faces so that she can board the shuttle.

“Don't forget to use the nail polish I gave you,” Nisha tells him once she and Jack part, one corner of her mouth raised. “No matter what he says, violet is definitely your colour.”

Ignoring Jack's snort, he makes a point of checking the still painted fingernails of his left hand. He smiles back at her, nodding his head. “I will. Try not to get killed down there.” He winks at her. “Again.”

Nisha chuckles, enveloping him into her strong arms.

Rhys opens his lips for her, letting her tongue into his mouth. One of her palms is an already familiar weight against the back of his neck, pressing him down to her. He jumps slightly when her other hand sneaks underneath his shirt, her hand warm against the skin of his stomach.

They part, but Nisha keeps his face close to hers, her eyes on Jack next to them. “Once you manage to put a parasite into him, it should have his looks and my brains.”

Jack crosses his arms in front of his chest, one eyebrow raised. “Hate to burst your bubble there, but that's not how genetics work.” He grins, flashing teeth. “And don't you think the baby should have something from _me_ as well?”

Nisha mirrors his grin, presses the side of her face against Rhys'. “Of course,” she says sweetly, her fingernails scratching over Rhys' stomach. “It can have _all_ of your wealth.”

A huff, and then Jack moulds himself against Rhys' back, both arms around his chest. “You're going to miss your shuttle, Ms. Kadam,” he says gruffly into Rhys' neck.

“Subtle, honey. Really, subtle.” Nisha takes a step away from them, a thoughtful look on her face.

Around him, Jack's arms tighten, and Rhys relaxes into his hold, picking up on the increased tension between them.

“Go find your own pretty, flexible and mouthy omega,” Jack says quietly, and Rhys has to swallow a laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation.

“Aw, but I've grown so fond of this one.” Nisha's eyes sweep across the room, and his alpha growls quietly. “You think a few of your lackeys will be enough to stop me? We both know that I eat stronger guys for breakfast.”

There's grim amusement in Jack's voice. “Which is exactly why there's over a dozen turrets aimed at you right now, and twice as many Loader Bots just waiting for my signal.”

That gets Rhys' attention, and he activates his ECHO eye, scanning the vast area and confirming Jack's claim. “Huh.” He feels weirdly... flattered. Rhys can't remember the last time two alphas got into a pissing contest over him.

A gleam enters Nisha's eyes, and Rhys knows her intimately enough by now to realise that this is his signal to intervene. “You told me yourself that I wouldn't survive an hour down there,” Rhys tells her, even though it makes his ego sting. 

He's survived life on Helios so far, with all it's intrigues and backstabbing — how much worse could Pandora possibly be?

Nisha tilts her head slowly, fingers tapping against her upper arm. Then she shakes her head, a small smile on her lips, and just like that the tension dissipates. “Yeah, and I don't actually have the time to babysit you all day.”

Rhys bristles. “Hey, I don't need to be looked after all day!”

Jack chuckles, pats his chest consolingly. “Pandora would eat you up and spit you out again in no time flat, Rhysie. Don't take it personally, it's just what that place does.”

“Exactly,” Nisha says, head tilted to look outside the forcefield between them and space. “Actually, I think I'm getting a bit homesick.” She turns around on her heels, sends them one last wave and a cheerful, “Don't have too much fun without me!” before vanishing inside of the shuttle.

They silently watch the shuttle depart, and then Rhys pats Jack's hand, still splayed out over his chest. “That was fun. Can we invite her again soon?”

“I think you need another lesson, princess.” Jack growls, pressing himself harder against Rhys' back. “You seem to have trouble remembering whom you belong to.” He bites into Rhys' neck, into the sensitive skin around the bond scar.

Rhys smiles while he rides out the pleasant waves shuddering through him, relieved that at least in this, Jack is still predictable.

* * *

He's only mildly surprised when Jack leads them back to his tower, a hand on the small of Rhys' back while he waves aggressively at anyone who looks at them for longer than two seconds with the other one.

He's definitely not surprised when Jack makes them stop in front of his ridiculously large bed, slowly beginning to undress Rhys. 

It's a slow process, and Jack has a thoughtful look on his face the entire time, seems even more careful when he unhooks Rhys' right arm.

Rhys helps him undress in kind, loathe to disturb the weird calm that has fallen over his alpha.

He _is_ surprised, though, when Jack's cock is barely half hard.

Jack chuckles, and Rhys wonders at the astounded expression on his own face. “I don't want to say that you two have worn me out — because you definitely haven't.” He presses Rhys against his front, a crooked smile on his lips. “But I probably won't get it up again today without any help.”

 _Hell_ , no. Rhys is not riding that rodeo again!

“I know, I know. Save your nagging for somebody who deserves it.” Jack pats his ass before he can even say anything, his other palm warm against the side of Rhys' face.

For a moment, he just looks at Rhys, eyes half shut, and Rhys is pretty sure Jack is able to hear the loud thud of Rhys' heart.

A surprised noise escapes his mouth when Jack suddenly grabs him, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed and taking Rhys down with him.

Rhys' spreads his legs out on either side of Jack, his hand on his alpha's chest, and his pulse a fluttering thing inside of his chest. “What was that about?” he asks, unable to stop a smile from stealing over his lips.

Jack shrugs with one shoulder. “Gotta keep you on your toes, princess.” He places his palms on Rhys' hips, thumbs rubbing small circles on the skin there. “I've still got a skilful pair of hands and a box of very interesting toys if you need to...” He trails off, waggling his eyebrows.

Rhys shakes his head, letting his fingers trail through the curly hairs on Jack's chest. Arousal burns low in his stomach, Jack's presence enough to enkindle it. But the last time he had this many orgasms in a week was during his heat. “I'm good,” he says quietly, wondering why Jack brought him here if it wasn't for sex.

Jack hums quietly, eyes half shut. “Well, then we can go right to the fun part of the evening.”

That sounds... foreboding. Rhys scratches over his alpha's chest, raises one eyebrow at him. “What do you have in mind, Jack?” Which is never a got question to ask him, but Rhys is a bit tired after the long week, and would rather cut right to the chase.

A slow grin spreads over his alpha's mouth, but before Rhys can do more than frown, Jack rolls them around.

Jack's weight on his back pushes him into the bed, and the air out of Rhys all at once. “Now I'm going to show you why I'm known for my excellent cuddling skills in all six galaxies.”

Rhys snorts loudly, shifting until his face is resting on his hand. “I thought that was your intellect.” It's nice, though. To have Jack's hairy chest against his skin, Jack's cock simply lying against the small of his back, and no urgency behind it.

“Again, points for listening.” Jack huffs against the side of his face. “But it's still probably mentioned somewhere in my heroic documentary ECHOs.” 

“No, it's not.” Rhys is smiling, feeling his mind drift off.

Jack pokes his side with clever fingers. “Rhysie, don't argue with me. There's at least a hundred of those things.”

“Ninety-seven, actually,” Rhys replies, far too quickly, and then he turns his burning face into the sheets.

Of course Jack won't just drop that. A firm hand cups Rhys' chin, turns him away from his hiding place. 

“Really, princess?” Jack's grin is entirely too wide. “I knew you were a huge fanboy even before we met, but I didn't know you were the _king_ of the fanboys.”

Rhys groans, folding his hand around Jack's. “Can we pretend that you don't know this about me, please?”

Jack chuckles, the sound vibrating against Rhys' back. “Nice try, but that's going right into my fondest memories.”

 _And into your already too large ego_ , Rhys thinks surly.

It takes a moment until Jack's quiet laughter dies down, and then he settles himself more firmly against Rhys' back, one of his upper arms in front of Rhys' face. “So, Rhysie,” he murmurs warmly against Rhys' neck. “Did your friends ever do this for you?” Jack presses his mouth against the nape of his neck, doing nothing but breathe into it, his nose pressed into Rhys' hair.

A slow grin spreads over Rhys' lips. Jack and his ego. It's almost endearing. 

He stretches languidly underneath Jack's weight. It's a wonderful feeling to be scented like this, made all the more satisfying because Jack is _his_ alpha. Rhys makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, pretends to have to think about the answer to that.

Jack growls quietly, and a pleasant shiver crawls down Rhys' back. He presses a firm kiss against Rhys' throat before leaning back slightly. “What about this?”

Rhys let's himself be turned onto his side, his head bedded on Jack's right arm. The palm of Jack's left hand comes to rest on Rhys' stomach while he pushes one foot between Rhys' thighs, entwining their legs. A pleased sound, and then Jack rests the side of his face against Rhys'. “Nice, right? Midget is far too short to be able to spoon you like a true champ.”

He smacks Jack's hip playfully. “Don't call him that. His name is Vaughn.” It's getting more and more difficult to keep the giggles locked up in his chest, and Rhys bites his lips. Jack's legs are warm, and the rough hairs on them feel wonderful against his own smooth skin. Rhys knows he could fall asleep like this, between one blink and the next.

But he just can't resist, can't keep quiet for too long. “You know,” he says quietly, “Vaughn can't, but I'm pretty sure Yvette is a bit taller than you.”

A deep inhale, and Rhys has to bite his tongue hard to keep the laughter inside. Jack turns him onto his back then, and Rhys doesn't even try to hide his amusement from him.

The frown on Jack's face morphs into a crooked smile. “You little shit.”

The laughter finally breaks free, and Jack brackets Rhys' head with his upper arms, leaning in while Rhys shakes with the force of it.

It takes a while before Rhys calms again, and he wipes his hand over his face once before curling his palm around the back of Jack's neck. “Come here.”

Jack leans down immediately, and their lips meet for a lingering, almost chaste kiss.

“What about that?” his alpha murmurs into the small space between their mouths.

Rhys smiles, traces over the edge of Jack's mask. “That's been yours ever since we met.”

“Sappy, but I'll take it,” Jack says, but his answering smile is the stuff promotional posters are made of, and between them, the bond hums and hums and hums.


End file.
